by Ilari Pass
The woman, not her desire, is like the spider
when she takes unto herself a frail house.
If only her lover knew, she’ll wait for the moon
to pry open the night, her web will flash
silver sparkles, an allurement to destruction
between lines of white she writes
toward the silence.
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Ilari Pass holds a BA in English from Guilford College of Greensboro, NC, and an MA in English, with a concentration in literature, from Gardner-Webb University of Boiling Springs, NC. She currently is poetry consultant for Free State Review, and serve as a Representative Reader for the African American culture for North Carolina Writers’ Network. You can find her Greatest Hits in The American Journal of Poetry, Kissing Dynamite, ONE ART, As It Ought To Be, Sledgehammer Lit, Paterson Literary Review, Free State Review, and others.